


Distant

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Come Eating, Comeplay, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Facials, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, and jon tops the hell out of both of them, in which theon is the most poorly repressed sub ever, robb doesn't even bother with repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 04:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Robb is leaving tomorrow, but he's here for tonight. Even if Jon and Theon aren't using him as thoroughly as they could be.





	Distant

When Theon wakes in the middle of the night to the sound of skin smacking, he's automatically ready to turn and mock Snow for having to toss himself off like a little boy, for not having the guts to just wake him up, and then to make Snow beg for him to help out after all. However that plan hits a snag when he does turn and sees a figure on top of Snow, their mouths rubbing together lewdly, Snow murmuring something like he's only just been dragged from the depths of slumber himself. Theon blinks. “Stark,” he says, still processing, “didn't think we'd see you tonight.”

Robb breaks the kiss with Jon and turns to him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry Theon,” he says, and leans over to drag him into a kiss also, wet and dirty and transparent. Robb's nightshirt is already discarded on Snow's floor, and Theon feels him damp with sweat over him. His own prick, which he thought was well taken care of by Jon's pretty mouth before, not that he'd admit it, twitches against his thigh. If he has to be woken up in the middle of the night, Theon reckons this isn't the worst way to be so. However Jon isn't as forgiving.

“It's late, Robb,” he comments, and Robb breaks the kiss to look at him again, making Theon whine in disappointment – which is embarrassing as fuck, but luckily neither of them seems to notice. “You woke us up.”

“I'm sorry, Jon,” says Robb. “I had to pack. But I thought I ought to come anyway–” and he smiles softly, “–I thought you might miss me.”

Of course they're going to miss him, even if he and his lord father aren't going to be in White Harbor very long, he and Jon always miss Robb whenever he's away. Theon thinks it's worse for him than Snow, frankly, because Jon at least has Underfoot and the whole gaggle of Starklings to hover about, even if Lady Stark isn't very pleased with it. Theon only has Robb, really. _What about me, Robb? Won't I miss you too?_ But he realises he sounds like a wailing maid, and besides, chances were Robb was referring to the both of them.

Jon raises an eyebrow. “We can take care of each other, you know,” he says, and Theon frowns, puzzled. Sure, that's true, but given the attitude they usually have to each other you'd think they'd both be happier with Robb between them. Usually, they are. “That's what we had to do tonight, since you weren't here.”

Theon scoffs. “Don't act like it was some bloody hardship,” he says, his thighs stinging where Snow scratched at them as they sucked and licked and swallowed each other. His prick is reasonably hard now, and he's not ashamed to admit it. Snow just ignores him.

“Who says we'll even be able to get it up again for you?” he asks Robb, who looks abashed.

“I'm sorry Jon – I didn't mean to, and, you don't have to if you don't want, but I'm here _now_ , and – if you'd like, you can do what you want with me–”

“Knees.”

There's a pause after Jon issues his command, and then Robb obeys, sliding off the bed to kneel by its side, looking up at them with his pretty baby blue eyes. Theon smirks. It's funny that, how easily Robb switches from being the little lordling of Winterfell who'll own them all someday, to hanging on his bastard brother's every word in desperate hope of some sort of reward – usually a cock in his arse, or his mouth, or wherever they feel like putting it, really. Funny, and a little unnerving.

Jon sits up, and looks over his shoulder at Theon. “Greyjoy. Get up.”

Theon is almost surprised to be remembered. Still, even though he knows if he just does as Jon says he'll get off sooner rather than later, he can't quite resist being a little shit. “Why? I'm comfy. Can't he suck me off on the bed?”

Jon rolls his eyes at that, and grabs Theon firmly by the wrist, gripping so tight he winces a little in pain. Theon finds himself perched on the edge of the bed, by Jon's side, with Robb kneeling between the two of them, biting his lip as he eyes their pricks. _Slut._ Theon fully assumes Jon means to have Robb suck them both off at once, and he's quite looking forward to that, but instead, Jon decides to distract him with a brutal kiss, shoving his tongue fierce and deep down Theon's throat, and Theon can't help but moan into it as Jon's hand squeezes his thigh firmly.

He hears another groan, and then a gentle slap as Jon breaks away from him, and then Theon looks down to see Robb with his head turned away and his mouth still hanging slightly open, as if he'd been angling for Jon's cock. “No,” Jon tells him. “You don't get to suck.” Robb whines softly and Jon ignores him, instead returning to Theon and fixing his lips upon his neck, making him gasp and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise if he keeps it up. “And don't even think about touching yourself,” he murmurs against the skin.

“Oh fuck,” Theon whispers, but then he realises what a trembling maid that makes him sound, and so he laughs cockily, as he always does. “What Snow, you're going to make him watch but not _touch_? You are a bastard.”

And then he whines as Jon's teeth dig into his neck, almost hard enough to break the skin. His cock spurts a little against his thigh, which is just embarrassing. “Aye,” whispers Jon, and then his hand finds Theon's leaking cock, starts pumping him hard and fast, and Theon groans and thrust back toward him. “So you ought to be careful not to piss me off.”

And Snow has a point there. His hand around Theon's cock feels _good_ , sure and strong and controlling, and Theon would rather the bastard not stop just because he can't keep his fucking mouth shut. So he throws an apologetic look to Robb, since this is probably a bit much punishment for being a couple of hours late, only to be bemused by what he sees. Robb is digging his nails into his thighs to repress the urge to touch himself, as you might expect, but he seems far from displeased – his eyes gone black with lust and his mouth still hanging open, panting like a bitch in heat. His cock looks like it must be aching, swollen and red against his belly. _Oh, of course it's not a bloody punishment,_ Theon thinks. Snow's far too much of a soft-touch for that. _And Robb's too much of a fucking slut. He's getting off on being denied. 'Course he is. As if Snow would do anything his beloved big brother didn't want?_

Well in that case, there's no reason to feel guilty, and every reason to get himself off in Snow's palm as soon as possible. He groans as he thrusts into it, Snow's fingers curling over the head and rubbing his slit, making him bite his lip to repress a whimper. Then Jon's other hand grabs his firmly, pressing it over his own crotch.

“Come on, Theon,” he mutters, and Theon does as he's told without question. Only fair. Jon's cock feels good in his hand too, hot and heavy and somehow bigger than usual, which he doesn't think is possible but maybe his imagination is playing tricks on him, and he can feel fluid starting to drip onto his hand and he remembers the taste of it, before, having Jon losing control above him, with his mouth wrapped around Theon's prick and his own prick buried in Theon's throat, thrusting hard and fast and leaving him gagging, barely able to breathe, and then Theon whines as another drop of seed spurts from his cock. He suspects he's not going to last as long as he'd like.

He hears another whine though, and when he turns his head he realises the liquid flew far enough to land on Robb's face, right at the corner of his mouth, where he's licking it up desperately. “Oh please,” he murmurs to no-one in particular, his nails leaving angry red marks on his thighs, and thrusting up into the air as if that will relieve the pressure. Well, his cock is smacking into his belly a little, so that might help.

The sight of him is incredible, but Jon just ignores it, kissing Theon again to steal his attention. His hand tightens around Theon's prick and Theon squeaks in a particularly un-Ironborn fashion as Snow quickens his pace, the ball of his hand rubbing teasingly at his balls. “Fuck, _Jon_ ,” he moans against the bastard's lips, and Snow breaks away, shifting his body to another angle so Theon has to strain to keep ahold of his cock, even as Jon doesn't struggle the same, his hand only seems more sure in its movements and Theon quickly realises why he's moved. He doesn't want to get in the way. Robb realises it too, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth hanging open even wider. He wants it. Gods, how much the little whore wants it. Theon groans and lets go, his seed spurting from him in one great rush.

Robb moans aloud as it hits his face, forming one line along the left side of his nose and corner of his mouth. He starts lapping at it immediately. “Fuck,” Jon hisses, and Theon's not sure if that's because of the sight of Robb or Theon himself twisting his thumb over the head of Jon's cock, but either way Jon doesn't take long to spill either, and he makes more of a mess of it too, splattering all over Robb's right cheek. Robb _cries out._

As they retreat Robb is still a wanton mess, thrusting into the air as he licks at any drop of seed he can, but a lot of it is out of the reach of his tongue. “Thank you,” he gasps, not even this enough to completely ruin the little lordling's manners, before he starts begging again: “please, please – oh Jon, please, oh please, can I come, please, please, I want to come...”

He looks so sweet, on his knees and desperate, that Theon almost doesn't mind that it's _Jon_ he begs his relief off of. Jon pauses a moment, but then gives him a nod, and Robb all but sobs in gratitude. Theon watches as he wraps one hand around his leaking prick, stroking himself hard and fast, while the other turns to the crucial task of wiping the come off his face with two fingers, so he can suck it off them instead. _Gods, he wants it so much._ Theon suddenly looks down at his own palm, also stained with Jon's Snow's come, and barely represses the urge to do the same thing Robb is.

So instead, he uses his hand for something else. “Open,” he says as he winds his fingers through Robb's cradle of red hair, pulling him close and feeding him his mostly soft cock to clean. Robb moans and laps up the last remaining drops with enthusiasm, enough Theon's prick does twitch in his mouth, but he knows he's not going to be able to give the poor boy another round. So he quickly lets go and lets Robb go do the same thing to Jon, who gasps and throws his head back as Robb's hot, greedy mouth closes around his length.

It's like that Robb finally comes, sucking the last drops out of Jon and he whines and spills in his palm, a few drops landing on the floor but Robb manages to catch the most of it. As he pulls back, Robb looks up at his brother with a smirk and, utterly shameless, licks his own seed off his hand also.

Jon looks down at him with a sigh and a smile. “It's alright, Robb. We're done now.” And Jon lets Robb rest his head against his thigh, stroking his hair fondly a moment. They do look sweet together, and Theon is almost jealous, not that he'd ever admit it. “Come on. Let's get back up on the bed.”

And so they do, all crawling beneath the sheets together for a rest and a cuddle, Theon taking Robb's firm chest for his pillow, sharing lazy kisses with him occasionally while Jon wraps his arms around his waist. They all stink of sweat and sex, but it doesn't really matter – Theon can wash with the cloth from Jon's basin in the morning, as people don't really come to Jon's rooms, at least not the way they do to Robb's.

After mayhaps a half hour of this, however, Robb lets out a reluctant sigh. “I should get back to my rooms,” he murmurs.

Theon tries not to whine too pathetically. “Must you?” he asks, before trying to be a little more himself about it. “You make a good pillow.”

Robb chuckles at him. “Sorry, Theon. But my father will come wake me in the morning, and if he doesn't find me...” And he's right. No cuddle is nice enough to be worth getting caught.

Theon sighs and moves away, but Jon isn't as quick to do the same. “Robb,” he murmurs into his brother's ear, and Robb turns to face him, curious. “We'll miss you.”

Robb smiles at him. “I know that,” he says, and then Theon watches them kiss, soft and gentle and loving, and it's almost enough to make him jealous again. But then Robb turns and kisses him the exact same way, which is reassuring, even if he still doesn't want to admit he needs the reassurance.

When Robb finally leaves, pulling his nightshirt back on and looking around stealthily before creeping back out into the dark corridor, Jon and Theon are left staring at each other in the warm bed. Theon smirks. “Yeah, you're going to miss him,” he says. “It's going to be a long two weeks, not having someone who'll let you come all over his face like that.”

And Jon raises an eyebrow. “You know, somehow I don't think that'll be a problem.”

 


End file.
